


A: Abyssal

by XX_CALIBRE



Series: Pykja Vænt Um [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:27:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27688268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XX_CALIBRE/pseuds/XX_CALIBRE
Summary: He’s surrounded by friends, and knows some will not come.
Relationships: Eivor/Vili
Series: Pykja Vænt Um [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024777
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	A: Abyssal

**Author's Note:**

> _Spoiler Warning : Minor Character Deaths_

He wonders how it would have went if that night wasn’t a momentary heat. A flickering flame. He wonders what they would have done, he wonders what they would have said. He wonders if Vili Hemmingson would have stayed. He wonders if Vili Hemmingson would have died.

Eivor’s lost in his thoughts but he sits on his throne, his eyes sunken and losing their shine. He’s surrounded by friends and yet some were just not there. He’s lost Soma, Hjorr, Hunwald, and Ubba, too.

But in his hall sat gods and goddesses. Bragi, Gunnar, Holgar, Yanli… to name a few. Randvi, Sigurd, Valka, and a couple more to tell you that he was not alone. Not when Hytham and Vili stood in his hall—

Everyone disappears into a fog.

Gone, they were. Yet he could hear them laugh, sing.

Gone, they were. Yet in existence they remained. 

Everyone is home, and yet all were just not there. 

Down and down did he go, falling into the depths of nothing. No Odin. No voice. Not even Helheim nor Valhalla came to say hello. Nothing. No one.

He falls through fire and ice, hot and cold. He falls and falls. Does not land. Not with a crash. Not with silence. He just does not land.

_I am alone._

Maybe he was lost. Like Soma, Hjorr, Hunwald. Ubba.

Taken by Vili that night, it seems like he left himself in that cave. There was nothing but an empty shell, sitting in that chair.

Oh, in his eyes were no longer the beautiful greens and blues. The deep oceans in his eyes were running dry.

Silent he has become. Silent will he remain.

There, in his throne, sat the body of Eivor Wolf-kissed. His eyes sunken and losing their shine. He’s surrounded by friends, and knows some will not come.

“Are you alright, Chicken Draugr?” Comes the question.

“Yes, Arse-stick.” Comes his answer. “I am _perfectly fine_.”

  
  



End file.
